


idk how ao3 works

by Whoop_There_It_Is



Category: DCU (Comics), Miraculous Ladybug, Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alya and Marinette are the bestest of friends, BAMF Damian Wayne, Damian Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Damian Wayne is a psychopath, Drugs, Established Relationship, I really just took a jackhammer to canon tbh, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Jon and Damian are big gay, Lila Rossi Bashing, Multi, Not Beta Read, Yeah i changed my mind, angst but not really, i've decided it's not gonna happen, idk haven't decided yet - Freeform, idk how to tag, it is gonna happen, more humor and crack, plot is atrocious, remember a few tags ago, where i said sexual assault of a minor isn't going to happen?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23978872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whoop_There_It_Is/pseuds/Whoop_There_It_Is
Summary: If asked, Damian would probably say it started when a suspicious amount of people started overdosing on an unknown drug. He’d say that the rise of the already high mortality rate in Gotham tracing back to Paris is what led him here, but he’d be wrong.or:Damian finds out that Marinette is his half-cousin, and his family thinks that the new case in Paris is the perfect opportunity for him to get to know her.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne, Juleka Couffaine/Rose Lavillant, Marc Anciel/Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Damian Wayne, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 51
Kudos: 274





	1. Tbh i got no idea what Im doing

**Author's Note:**

> I dont own these series-all that jazz and such
> 
> ok lets get to it, i wrote this in like an hour, im sleep deprived and im fairly sure it sucks, but ya know, live like you were dying or whateva.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We starting off ig

If asked, Damian would probably say it started when a suspicious amount of people started overdosing on an unknown drug. He’d say that the rise of the already high mortality rate in Gotham tracing back to Paris is what led him here, but he’d be wrong.

It _really_ all began with Talia. Because of fucking _course_ it does. It began when she wormed her way into Damians presence again. Talking nonsense on “rejoining the league” and “mending the family back together”. She did her usual speech, going on and on about blood-lines and her fascination with Bruce. Only this time, she left with a flare, talking nonsense about how Bruce had stolen her son, like how _her sister had been stolen as a baby_.

And that, oh that was weird. Because as far as they knew, Talia had one half brother, and one half sister. And neither of them had been stolen as a baby.

Bruce had wanted to do some research, despite Damians insistence that he really did not care enough to even give her the time of day. But Bruce had made up his mind, and once he does that, it is very difficult to change.

So yeah, it started with Talia, but it got really juicy when their father had offhandedly mentioned Damians long lost family, in the middle of breakfast no less.

“Hey Damian, you know you have a cousin?” Bruce said, mouth full of eggs and all, Alfred would not be pleased.

“Yes, I know Mara.” Damian replied after _swallowing_ his _food_ because he wasn’t a _heathen_.

“No, not Mara.” Bruce wiped his mouth, “I was researching into Talia's sister, the one that was stolen? She lives in Paris, and has a daughter around your age.”

“Hm, interesting.”

“Really Dami! That is great! You should get to know her.” Dick said, ever hopeful.

“Yeah, Goldies right, maybe having some more friends your age would loosen the stick up your ass.” Said Jason.

Damian frowned, “I _have_ friends, Todd.”

“You have like three, at most.” Tim piped up.

“ _Anyways_ , I am not sure if you noticed, but i haven’t had the best track record with my biological family.” Damian pointed out. He didn’t know why they were so intent on this.

“Oh I’ve noticed.” Tim shuddered.

“Hey, you get along with me,” Said Bruce.

“Oh wow, I like one person I am related to, such an accomplishment.” Damian deapans.

“Well _these ones_ are _normal_ ” Dick said

“Come on, just think about it Dames” Said Jason.

“Ok, I will.”

* * *

He didn't think about it, to be frank. He figured he was fine without them, and they were fine without him. He would have been perfectly fine with staying that way.

But oh is life quite the bitch.

Just his luck that a lead on some new drug, something strong but deadly, had traced its manufacturing right into Paris. It is a mundane case, or, as mundane as possible-people are dying after all. But there are no connections to any villains, just a drug smuggling ring, so that’s a plus right?

Case in point, really any person would have been better to take this case. Grayson? He travels all the time. Drake? Even Damian admits that he is great undercover. Jason? It’s a case revolving around drugs, that is _literally_ his thing! But no. _Damian_ has to do it because it gives _Damian_ the chance to meet his family despite the fact that _Damian_ has his own family that he already prefers. 

If he didn’t know better, he’d think they just want him gone. He is really glad that he knows better.

Despite the fact that he is independent, that doesn’t mean he wants to fuck-off to Paris where he didn’t know anybody.

* * *

“Jon, love, habibi, light of my life...are you _sure_ there is no way you can come with me.” Damian complained.

“Dami, sweetheart, moonshine, the stars in my night sky... you know I can’t.” Jon placed a kiss to his cheek. “Im only fifteen, and I have a thing called _school_.”

“Ok? And? School is irrelevant, you can come to the school I’ll be attending while there.”

“I don’t speak french, dude. And why are you going to school there?”

Damian groaned, “You know how there are often attacks? All the ugly colorful monsters? Magic and metas bullshit?” Jon nods. 

“Well they’ve been handling it fine, so we haven’t gotten involved, but apparently a lot of the attacks are in the vicinity of that school, and they want me to keep an eye on that as well, but only get involved if it’s necessary-which, bullshit by the way.” he stops and sighs. “At least that’s what my father says, I am fairly certain it is because my half-cousin goes there.”

Jon perks up at that, “Oh! I forgot about that! You gotta tell me all about her.”

“If what i’ve researched on her is correct, I think you two would get along.”

“Oh? Why is that?” Jon teases.

“You both are disgustingly ebullient.”

“I don’t know what that means luv.”

“She’s also the daughter of two bakers.”

“Ooh food, I like food.”

“...”

“...”

“Jon, I don’t want to leave you.” He whines.

“Aw, Dami. We will text all the time, and I am gonna facetime you so much you will be sick of my face.” Jon assures.

“Doubt it but okay.”

“And I might be able to get my parents to let me visit a day or two on weekends or breaks.”

“Doubt it but okay.” Jon makes an offended noise at that, “What? I think the likelihood of them letting their fifteen year old son take a day trip to another continent is not very high.”

“It is if I start crying.” Jon points out.

“Ah yes, how could I forget, the superman's only weakness is not-in fact-kryptonite, but one of his sons crying.” Damian joked.

“I know that's a joke, but for real it do be true though,”

“Oh my lord isn’t it?”

They laughed together. And just, it was so easy. He wrapped his arms around Jon, and Jon pressed his face into Damians neck.

“I’ll miss you so much,” Jon mumbles.

“As will I.” He says. He can feel Jon's smile spread.

“I hate you, Dami.”

“Happy to hear it, Habibi.”

* * *

The literal _second_ he stepped into his apartment, he was annoyed. It was nice, don’t get him wrong, but _shit_ . He felt out of place. The furniture was lacking-his own fault really, he wanted to pick it out himself. The walls were bare, much unlike Jons walls, which are covered in posters, and his, which have a few of his own paintings. It feels _empty_ , and _cold_. Not like home.

Damian sighs. He knows he is being angsty, but what can he say, living with his father and his brothers, being friends with Colin and Maya, dating Jon… they _softened_ him, dare he say.

Anyways, Damian thinks everybody can agree that the best part about this endeavor, is the fact that he was able to bring his dear beloved cat Alfred. He doesn’t know how he’d fair without him, and oh how it hurt to leave Titus. He needs to stop wallowing, he decides. It is early in the morning, so he can’t go out patrolling. So he has two options, decorate this pathetic excuse of a living space, or…

He gets a text.

**B: Hello Damian, I hope your flight was okay. The address to the bakery is 21st** **arrondissement, 12 Rue Gotlib. I would like for you to introduce yourself.**

**B: Have a good day Damian, I love you.**

**Me: thank you :)**

So it seems like his option was made for him, great, awesome, totally amazing.

Now, Damian wouldn’t say he was nervous. He rarely gets nervous. But he has never been great around people, and these are people that kinda actually matter. If they don’t want him there, that's okay, he doesn’t mind, he actually would _understand_ . But he doesn’t know what to do in the situation that they _do_ want him there. What will they talk about? What do they have in common?

He knows Marinette and him had _very_ different upbringings. Not to say she didn’t have struggles. But he knows that while she grew up in a loving and supporting family, he grew up desensitized to hate, gore, murder. All the atrocities in the world were exposed to him at a very young age. On her third birthday, she was probably playing imaginary games with friends, eating a fucking homemade cake, and was sang happy birthday. On his third birthday, he killed his first man, and was punished for making a mess.

Point is, they are not the same.

But then again, Damian thinks, neither are him and Jon.

So maybe this could work out.

* * *

  
  


The door is sat in front of him, and he feels as if he should knock. _But you don’t knock on bakery doors dumbass_ , he thinks. They have one of those places, where the ground level is the store, then on top is where they live. He has never been a fan of those style houses. Because yes, while it is convenient, he also feels work and home life should be separate. Granted, that makes him sound like an enormous hypocrite, as most of his life revolves around work, _and_ the Batcave being one floor below their house doesn’t help his case. But he still believes that it's always good to have a place where you can escape to when work becomes too much.

Whatever, he’s stalling.

When he opens the door, there's a ring above his head. He looks around, and it is not surprised at _all_ by how aesthetically organized it is. It looks as if it was taken straight out of a pinterest post by a white girl who tagged it “cozy”.

“Ah! It’s a bit early for younger customers isn’t it?” An absolutely gigantic man says. He looks to be kneading bread at the moment.

“Yes, I am sure it is. Are you Tom Dupain?” Damian says. _Too formal_ , he thinks, _maybe be a lil more approachable next time dipshit? How ‘bout that?._

“Oh, Yes? Can I help you with anything?” Mr. Dupain wipes his hands free of flour, before making his way over to Damian with a worried expression.

“Uh, yeah, I came to talk to Mrs. Sabine Cheng? Your wife?” _He knows that she’s his wife you dumbfuck oh my go-_ “Well you too, I guess. And your daughter?”

“Um… Yeah, sure...Marinette is still asleep right now, but I can get Sabine for you?” Mr. Dupain says. Damian feels as if he creeped him out. And lord he does not blame the man. Some teen that he has never seen before comes into his bakery-his _home_ , and cryptically asks if he can talk to you, your wife, and your daughter? Yeah no, Damian would’ve had a knife to his throat if the situation was reversed.

By the time Mr. Dupain gets back, he has Mrs. Cheng in tow. He leads them all to a table, the two of them on one side, Damian on the other. He can tell they’re holding hands under the table. It makes him think of Jon

“So, you wanted to speak to us?” Mrs. Cheng says, she sounds concerned, and Damian can’t help but feel a little guilty.

“Yes, Mrs. Cheng, my name is Damian,” he offers his hand to both of them, Mr. Dupain shakes his hand first. Shortly followed by Mrs. Cheng’s much smaller hand. “To put it simply, I am your nephew? Half-nephew?”

While Mrs. Cheng seemed surprised, Mr. Dupain sagged in relief. “Oh my! I thought it was going to be something bad!” Mr. Dupain laughed out, he can’t help but think that he is too nice for his own good.

“I don’t have any siblings?” Mrs. Cheng says, “Unless...are you…?”

“Um, yeah, I am. You were adopted? Yes?”

“More or less…heavy on the less,” She huffs a laugh at her own joke. _So she knows_ , he inquires.

“So, yeah... my mother, she is your half sister.” He feels incredibly awkward, like everything he says is absolutely _fermented_ in the pure, quintessence of discomfort.

“I...I have a sister?” She says with a small smile. God, she looks so _hopeful_ , and Damian has to cut that shit off right here, right now.

“I know it sounds good, Mrs. Cheng. But… you have to understand, she is not a good person. In fact, I’d say she’s an awful person and if I were you, I wouldn’t want her anywhere near your family. I don't even want her near _me_.” If their shocked faces were anything to go by, he feels he got through to them. He may have been a little too forward with them, though.

“How could you say that about your own mother?” Mr. Dupain says aghast. As if he said it about his mother, and not Damians.

“I...I lived with my mother for the first ten years of my life, I am seventeen now, and I can confidently say that those were the worst years of my life.” Not a lie. “I live with my father now. Me and my brothers, my brothers are adopted. My father has full custody, she doesn’t even have visiting rights, and you know how hard it is for a mother to lose all custody.” Kind of a lie, there was never a court case, but he can guarantee the outcome would be the same if there was.

They are both quiet. He can practically smell the sympathy wafting off them and resists the urge to roll his eyes. He hates pity.

“Well,” Mrs. Cheng starts, “If you want, you can have another family here.”

Mr. Dupain walks around the table and squats next to Damian. “We’d love to have you.” He says, with a smile that is just almost _too_ welcome

Oh yeah, they are definitely too nice for their own good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some knowledge for yo minds
> 
> Damian-17  
> Jon-15  
> Marinette & her class-15  
> Sabine is Talia's half sister
> 
> so yeh idk if im gonna continue this but we will see yall


	2. Bruce is petty, Damian tries to be nice, and Marinette is Emotional

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeh, never thought we'd get here? but one(1) person said they were interested and i was bored so here tf we are i guess  
> This chapter is *very* dialogue heavy and im sorry for that, there is no plot, its just dialogue, and barely amusing at all. its very bland cause i am not a good writer.
> 
> once again, i have not proof read it, so expect spelling mistakes

“Father, this is absolutely preposterous!” Damian seethed into the phone.

“Hold on Damian, hear me out-” Bruce tried to amend.

Damian was truly and utterly offended. He had just gotten his school schedule-which Damian firmly believes he shouldn’t even be _attending_ \- and not only does he have no electives, but he was put in a grade level _two whole years_ behind someone his age. Not even counting his far superior intellect, this is a massive insult.

“I will _not_ be attending school with _children_.” He says.

“You are still a child yourself, Damian,” Bruce sounds exasperated. But boo- _fucking_ -hoo, because Damian thinks his father would have to be an idiot to think he would accept this absurdity.

He wants to say something about how he is leagues ahead of these _troglodytes_ in almost every aspect of life. But alas, his past actions have since proven that it may not be the best argument.

“Why?” he snaps, “This is way outta pocket, what do you gain from this?” 

“I-what? What does out of pocket mean?” Bruce asks.

“It is an american slang term for _you are acting fucking crazy Bruce_ ”

“Swear jar.” He deadpans.

“ _Oh_ my _alleh_ ” Damian groans, “That has to be the worst thing in our lives.”

“Maybe it wouldn’t be if you boys and Stephanie didn’t have such foul mouths.”

“Not Cass?”

“No she’s an angel and I love her.”

“Yeah she is definitely your favorite.” Damian snorts.

“I’m a father, Damian, I don’t have favorites.”

“We are getting off topic,” He declares, “Why am I in the same class as toddlers?:

“First of all, they are the same age as Jon-” Bruce starts

“I am sure they are as stupid as him too.”

“ _Secondly_ , there’s a lot of weird stuff going on in that class okay? Adrien Agreste, Chloé Bourgeois, Mylène Haprèle, Nino Lahiffe, Alya Césaire, Nathaniel Kurtzberg, and Lila Rossi have all been targeted in attacks. _And_ Alya Césaire runs the most detailed blog on the two heroes.”

“Hmph.” Damian doesn’t want to admit that there is solid reasoning.

“So you’ll _civilly_ attend that class?” His father asks.

Damian thinks about it for a few seconds, “I’ll be skipping days as I see fit.”

“I wouldn’t expect any less,” Bruce sighs, “Just make sure not to get expelled, alright?”

“I will put in my best efforts.”

“Okay Damian, I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Bye father,” Damian goes to hang up but Bruce starts again.

“Oh, by the way, Marinette is in that class too.” He says quickly, hanging up before Damian has the chance to respond.

“He is _so_ annoying,” Damian whispers to himself. It’s not that he doesn’t want to meet her, to his account and her parents' descriptions, she is basically a less sarcastic Jon, or Dick when he's happy. But she is like that all the time, which Damian doesn’t know how that is possible but to each their own.

He’s not entirely sure of what to do in the situation where she wants to get to know him, but he _is_ entirely sure that will be the case. He doesn't want to make a bad impression, but he can’t have her getting in the way of his investigation. Because even with everything going on, the gothamites take priority. So yeah, he would rather not make a bad impression, or seem like a total asshole to Marinette and her family, but he will do what he has to if it means people stop dying.

He sighs, putting down his phone, only to picky it back up to check the time. He huffs out a laugh as it read _3:37_. The schooling system in France is different, so if he is correct, there should be around twenty minutes left of after-lunch-break. He is going to have to get used to the scheduling. While it does start later at around 8:30, they have many long breaks between classes, so unfortunately the last class his group has ends at 5:00.

Damian does some last minute errands, packing his school bag, giving Alfred his lunch, the like. He changes clothes, double checks that he has his comb, keys, wallet, and phone. Triple checks the lock. By the time he makes it outside it’s 3:45.

“Ugh, not enough time to walk. Should have left earlier.” He grumbles as he walks to the motorcycle his father had gotten him. As much as he wished to have redbird, _apparently_ a bright red and yellow emblem on the side wasn’t incognito enough. Bruce practically had him assume another whole ass identity, no _robin_ , no _redbird_. 

He shoves on his helmet and straddles the seat. _Well_ , he thinks, _time to waste my time being fake nice to babies_.

* * *

  
  


Marinette was having a good day if she said so herself. Chloé and Lila had kept mostly to themselves, there were no akuma attacks, and _most importantly_ there was no awkward and embarrassing conversation with Adrien. Now granted, she didn’t have a real conversation with him, but that’s okay. Oh she’d _love_ to have a good conversation with him, where it was just him and her…and she doesn’t mess up her words like a bumbling idiot… Where Adrien looks into her eyes, and falls in love with her right then and there. Yes, she could imagine it. He’d declare his unconditional admiration for Marinette Dupain-Cheng-Agreste at the top of his lungs, before proposing to her. She’d of _course_ say yes. Then, they’d get married at sunset and run off to live a life with two kids and a hamster named-

“ _Oh no!_ ” She shrieks. The warning bell for class sounds through the school. But _she_ is in the _bathroom_ , and the _classroom_ is on the _other side of the building_. She breaks off into a sprint into the hall(yes she washed her hands). At this point, if a teacher or janitor or the principle or whoever the heck is in the halls right now notices her, that is a problem for future Marinette because right now, she needs to be on time for class or a certain Sabine Cheng will have her head.

Marinette skids around the fifth corner, and she can see the door in her currently-tunnel-vision-view. _She is so close_ , her heart is pounding in her ears, blocking out everything else, allowing all her senses to hyper-focus on getting through that door before the next bell rings.

Her head buzzes with adrenaline, excitement, nervousness, all of it. All the gotta-go-fast chemicals. She is nearing the door now, she thinks she might’ve barreled past-or halfway through- someone, but she doesn’t know, nor does she care, because she just stepped foot in the room _two seconds_ before the bell rang. You hear that right. Marinette Dupain-Cheng is _not_ late to class.

She gasps for air, leaning over with her hands on her knees before climbing up to her seat in the back of the class. She is not Ladybug right now, so she unfortunately has very human endurance.

“When she looks up, Alya is turned around in her seat giving her a knowing smile. Despite her suffering respiratory system, Marinette laughs, because really, what did Alya expect? For her to be on time? That’s funny…

“If I could get everyone's attention for a minute!” Mme. Bustier's sweet voice filled the room. “We have a new student, he’ll be joining us for a while, why don’t you introduce yourself and tell us about you.”

The boy looked confused for a split second before his face went blank. “I’m Damian Kane.” He started, Mme. Bustier gave him an encouraging look, “Just came from America, New Jersey. I, uh, I really like art. Painting, sculpting, drawing mostly.” Nathaniel and Alix perk up at that.

“That was very nice, Damian. Maybe you could join the art club here?” At that, he just shrugs. Marinette gets the impression he doesn’t talk much. “You can take a seat up there at the back, next to Marinette.”

He looks up at her making eye contact, and she feels as if he is looking through skin into her soul, and picking out and scrutinizing every little thing wrong with her (If she knew Damian better, she’d know that he probably was). Just before she grew uncomfortable under his gaze, he walked up the steps and sat next to her. Putting his bag down next him, pulling a phone and a notebook.

“Hello,” Marinette says brightly. Damian just smirks and shakes his head as if he is laughing at something she wouldn’t understand.

“So… why’d you come to France?” She asks. This guy seems like he doesn’t have many friends, and well, she guesses he doesn’t since he just moved from _America_ to _Paris_. Wild.

“It’s complicated.” He says curtly. She feels like he is pushing her away. Well that won’t do! She will be his friend and make him feel welcomed, no matter what.

“I’m sure I can figure it out.” He eyes her suspiciously. Then smirks and shakes his head again, and Marinette just knows she will get tired of that if he does that often.

“You wanna know something...funny?” He says conspiratorially. She nods her head.

“So you are Marinette Dupain-Cheng right? And your parents are Sabine Cheng and Tom Dupain?”

“Uh...Yeah?” Where was he going with this? How does he know her parents' names?

“I am your cousin.” He states. Like this is normal. Like having a cousin you didn't even know about was an average wednesday thing. Was it it America? Marinette doesn’t know. It might be.

“ _What!_ ” she shouts. Mme. Bustier looks up.

“Is everything alright Marinette?” she asks.

“Y-yeah! Everything is fine, every-everything is all good, _super_ good actually! I’m doing all nice and… dandy.” Mme. Bustier turns back to the board.

“Well more like half-cousins.” Damian goes on quietly like she hadn’t just yelled in his face.

“How!? I didn’t think my parents had any siblings.” She whispered.

“I talked about it a few days ago with your parents,” she opens her mouth to speak but he cuts her off, “You were asleep.”

“So you came all the way here to meet us? That’s so nice,” She says.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” He huffs out a small laugh, or scoff, probably both, “That’s not the only reason I am here.”

“Really? Then why else?” She wonders out loud.

“I am here to pursue a higher education in art,” he emphasizes by sending a pointed look around class. He picks up his phone and begins texting

Ah, that checks out, their classes and classmates are grouped by what they want to do in the future. Hers is made up of some of the more creative professions. Adrien and Chloé for modeling(though she knows Adrien personally prefers science, Alya for writing and journalism, Marinette for fashion, Nino, Rose, Juleka, and Ivan for music, Mylène for acting, Max for game design, Nathaniel and Alix(and now Damian) for art. She’s honestly not sure what Kim, Chloé, Sabrina, or Lila(ew) do…

  
  


“Oh that’s really cool!” She says, “You’ll have to show me some of your work sometime.”

“I’d love to, I really would,” he didn’t look like he would, “But I had to leave all my work in America.”

  
  


“Oh no! That’s awful, I would actually really like to see them. You see, Nathaniel draws a lot too and he is really good, he does comics! And Alix does graffiti, which is a way different style than comics, but neither of them paint or sculpt and I think it’d be really cool to see how they compare and how they are different and the process of making them and-”

“Oh my _alleh,_ here,” he slides over his phone. It seems she annoyed him into showing her a picture of one of his paintings-which is a success. She snatches the phone and holds it close to her face, glad for once to be in the back as phones were definitely _not_ allowed.

“Wow! _You_ did this!?” She whisper-gasps. The painting is photorealistic, it’s a pale boy with black hair. The boy is standing in the middle of the field, face pointed to the sky and arms out spread eagle as rain pours down, the dark clouds look just as fluffy as they do in person.

“Don’t sound so surprised. I took a picture and painted from that,” Damian leaned over to look at the picture with her. “I prefer to use live references but he couldn’t just stand there for hours,”

“That is _phenomenal_ ,” She hands the phone back and he resumes texting. “Who is in the picture?”

“Oh wouldn’t you like to know” He says with a very small smile, it still looks more like a smirk but Marinette is starting to think that that is just his natural smile.

“I am just trying to make conversation!” Marinette says in mock-offense. “You’re my cousin, that’s what I _should_ be doing,”

“You _should_ be taking notes,” He nods his head pointedly to the board… where it is _covered_ in material she doesn’t know.

“Oh! I-gah!” She tries to stay quiet as she shovels through her bag for her textbook and notebook. _Oh lord_ , she will definitely be failing this unit’s quiz, maths have never been her strong suit.

As Marinette struggles to find out what is going on, Damian just proceeds to text somebody on his phone. That marks the end of their conversation.

* * *

  
  


When the bell rings, signaling the end of class, Alya comes up to her and Damians table with Nino and Adrien(Adrien!) in tow.

“Hey girl, you still coming out to eat with us, right?” She asks.

“Yeah! Of course, who’s all going?” Mariette says as she’s putting away her stuff.

“Well it’s us four, Nathaniel, Alix, Rose, and Juleka,”

Marinette thinks of something _amazing_ , “Hey can Damian come?” Damian pauses statue still from where he was right about to walk past them.

“...The new kid?” Alya says slowly.

Damian rolls his eyes, “Wow it’s almost as if I am standing right here.” He says sarcastically.

“I don’t know, we haven’t even talked yet…” Alya explains.

“Oh don’t worry, I won’t be joining you.” Damian says sharply before going to walk away. Marinette quickly catches his wrist, and he goes stock still. She barely takes notice.

“No! Come with us please! What else would you be doing And Alya! I talked to him during class and he’s cool! Really cool, like cool enough to go out to eat with us.” Marinette pleads with both people.

“Are you implying I don't have a life?” Damian asks.

“No! N-no I am sure you have stuff to do, but like, you should eat first.” Marinette rushed out.

“Woah, calm your vibe, I was joking,” He said.

“Oh! Right, well we all are going out to get food so… get your bag and we’ll walk,”

“Alright girl,” Alya laughed, “We ca-”

“Oh you guys are going out? Can I come?” A sickly sweet(fake) voice rings.

“Oh…” Alya looks a bit uncomfortable at the ask, “sure, Lila, you can walk with us.”

Marinette simply, closer her eyes. All she wanted was one day, _one freakin day_ , without Lila forcing herself into their group. Her fists clenched, and she grit her teeth together. She can’t believe it! Marinette was having a really good day. But now Lila has to come and ruin it with all of her pathetic lies.

The group had only just started walking when Lila had to strike again. Damian had asked if there was vegan food (he’s vegan, she’ll have to keep that in mind for when she bakes for him), Adrien had barely gotten out a ‘ _yeah’_ before:

“Oh I know a _ton_ of vegan recipes, I could show you how to make anything if you wanted.”

Marinette growled lightly under her breath, she doesn’t know how long she can deal with her.

* * *

  
  


Damian's eyebrows furrowed as he heard Marinette seethe quietly. She may be extremely annoying but she seemed well meaning, she also seemed like not a very ill-tempered person. But a few sentences out of Lila’s mouth and she was already fuming. Maybe it was because she lied. It was very obvious that Lila had lied, her expressions, tone, and voice inflictions had been overly-dramatized to make herself seem sincere, but that sincerity was most definitely fake. It was so obviously a lie, but no-one else seemed to pick it up. Perhaps that is why Marinette was so...aggravated.

“Hey what’s the address of the place?” He asks.

“Hm? Why? We are headed there now,” A short girl with pink hair says.

“I need to take my bike there, or I’ll have to walk back here.” He explains. He kind of wanted to say that it was none of her business, but he had to get them to like him, it would do no good to make the people he needed info from to hate him.

Alya rattles off the address as Damian types it into his phone. He nods, he knows where that place is, he saw it on the way to the school that day.

“Well I gotta extra seat, you wanna ride with me, Marinette?” Damian asks. If she would rather walk with her friends, that is perfectly reasonable. But he is giving her a free chance to escape Lila for a bit more time.

Marinette looks up, eyes comically wide in shock, it kinda grosses him out. “Oh, uh...” she looks between her friends-who have stopped walking and talking just to stare at her- and Damian, “um, sure, I’ll go with you.”

“Great, It’s out in the lot, see you guys at the restaurant.” He says with as much nice-ness as possible, he thinks he did a shit job.

After walking in silence for a bit, he turns to Marinette, “You looked like you were about to combust if Lila said another word.”

“Oh my _God_ , I cannot _stand_ her! All she does is tell lies! And bully people! Then make _herself_ look like the victim?! And nobody notices! Or cares! It is _so_ … infuriating!” She yells as she dramatically throws her arms in the air.

“Okay, wow,”

“Oh I’m sorry! But you have to believe me! She says more lies than she does truth,” She hisses.

“...You don’t like liars do you,” He says sarcastically. By this time they’ve reached the bike.

Marinette deflates at that, “No. I hate liars.” She mumbles.

She is more annoying and emotional than Jon, well, maybe not more annoying. He sighs, picking up his single helmet, and gives it to Marinette. She takes it with a small smile.

“Don’t worry, I could immediately tell she was lying.” He states.

“Oh _good_ ,” She sighs in relief, “So, this is your bike? It’s really nice.”

“Yeah, just got it a few days ago.” He says drily, motioning for her to get on the back of the bike behind him. She immediately gets on and wraps her arms tightly around him.

“Hey, I’ve never been on a motorcycle so please be gentle, and shouldn’t you be wearing a helme-aaahhhh!” She trails off into a scream when he very quickly, and not gently at all, pulls out into the street. He doesn’t try to hide his amusement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there are multiple ways this fic could go. If anybody has any suggestions thatd be aight, but just know i am going with the flow here and that is just a recipe for plot holes
> 
> antyways, i might post tomorrow, i might post in two weeks, i dont know, My biggest defining traits are: I am inconsistent, and use too many commas
> 
> edit: just realized i didn't add any line breaks,, that woulda been a fatass mess


	3. Plot is hard to write

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What have i been doing? Oh i'm glad you brought it up: This week i have lost half my left eyebrow, it was rubbed off from the material in one of my beanies. Your condolences would be very appreciated. I also tried to write plot but that be hard :/, but anyway the highlight of my week was when I got a 95 on my french project.

When the rest of the group had gotten to the restaurant. Damian and Marinette had already been there. Marinette was still sat on the motorcycle, and Damian was leaning against the side, now donning a pair of sunglasses. They were both absentmindedly scrolling through their phones, while keeping up some small talk.

  


Damian took notice of the large group making their way towards them, he tapped Marinette on the knee before nodding his head towards them. She hopped off the bike, putting the helmet on the seat.

  


“Hey guys,” She waved, only Rose, Juleka, Nathaniel and Adrien waved back. The rest were focused on something else.

  


“Woah… dude,  _ that’s _ your bike?” A boy with a baseball cap said. He seemed to be in awe at it. Damian didn’t know why, it was just a simple black cruiser.

  


“Yeah?” Damian drawled.

  


“I didn’t think you had a mega fancy motorcycle, bro” Baseball cap said. The same short girl with pink hair from before had gotten close to it, inspecting it with a fascinated but critical eye.

  


“Why? What else would I have?” Damian almost rolled his eyes.

  


“I don’t know, man, you said you were taking your bike. So I thought you had like, a  _ bike _ , like, one that pedals and stuff” he stresses.

  


Damian  _ did _ roll his eyes at that, “Why on earth would I give someone a ride on a bike like that?”

  


“I don’t know! Why can you drive? You’re only fifteen!” He defended. Whatever, he’s a dumbass.

  


“I’m seventeen. Let's just go in or whatever.” Damian says.

  


* * *

  


They go in as a group, and get seated at a big table. As Damian looks through, he is thoroughly disappointed at the vegan selection. The french and their cheese, why does it have to be in so much stuff? The table engages in conversation around him, but he doesn’t trust himself to open his mouth without making a snide comment, so he stays quiet.

  


A lady comes and takes their orders, and has the food out in a relatively short amount of time. Now, Damian knows France is famous for their exquisite cuisine, but they are severely lacking in the vegan department. The food is bland and almost flavorless, the only thing properly seasoned is the asparagus(which is very good he’ll give them that).

  


While eating, he had compiled a list of possible places to start his case. He doesn’t think the crime-rate here is very high. So it will be hard to find a dealer that has X-Lite, or more commonly known as X. He knows that the production is somewhere in North France, but most likely Paris. He thinks he could get in contact with a regular dealer, maybe something low level like coke or LSD? Then try and work his way up to meth, and maybe heroin? He doesn’t know about that one. The drug scene is very dry, he’s pretty sure heroin isn’t that common.

  


He sighs, and runs his hand through his hair. If it is hard to find  _ meth _ , he can’t imagine trying to find X. X is a hard hitter. Their scanners had indicated medium amounts of  _ both _ Methamphetamines and Oxycodone, then pumped full of fentanyl, all served in a tiny white pill.

  


Now this could do a few things, if you’re lucky, the stimulants and narcotics mix to give a mild, even high where you are seemingly floating everywhere. You could be in the middle, where you switch violently from fast and rapid energy to sluggish and barely conscious. Or you’re unlucky, where the narcotics attack your body, but the stimulants hot wire your brain. Essentially trapping you in your own meat sack, from there your brain goes into an intense panic, desperately trying to figure out what is happening and how to fix it, and the sudden influx of chemicals melts your brain. Fun right? So if he can’t find  _ fucking meth _ , how his he going to find X.

  


He had been texting Jason about drug cases, and learned that most producers get their supplies from hospitals, labs, pharmacies, the like. He’ll need to see if any of the local places have some of the same components that are in the X-Lite. He does a quick search and finds the biggest Pharmacy and Hospital in the area.  _ I’ll start there tonight _ , he decides. The pharmacy closes at night, so it shouldn’t be too hard to get in, but he’ll need to get a computer without getting noticed at the hospital.

  


He can’t wear his robin suit, as his father said:  _ “Robin being seen in Paris would immediately tip them off. You need to keep a low-profile to keep them from finding out that we’re onto them.” _ He groans in frustration at that. The only thing he got to keep was his kevlar under-lining and the utility belt.

  


“You okay Damian?”

  


Damian looks up to see Marinette looking at him with a worried expression. “Oh yeah, I’m good, it’s just that...a lot of my stuff hasn’t arrived yet, so…” He almost feels bad for lying, considering her hatred for liars, but it’s not like he’s just gonna say ‘ _ oh yeah I am just a bit bummed that I couldn’t bring my vigilante outfit on my secret undercover mission to bust a drug smuggling operation _ ’

  


“Oh, ok then, if you need any supplies there’s a donation center a few miles south that helps people out after bad akuma attacks.” She suggests. He ignores the fact that he could easily buy anything he needed in exchange for a little detail.

  


“What’s an akuma?” He asks.

  


The whole table collectively turns to him in shock. “You don’t know what an akuma is!?” A girl with brown hair and skin like his says.

  


“He probably doesn't Alya, he’s from America…” A boy with red hair says.

  


“Oh my  _ lord _ I am going to tell you all about them,” Alya says, and he recognizes the name. Alya Césaire, she’s the one who his father said runs the most educational account on the superheros in Paris.

  


“Oh prepare yourself dude,” Says baseball cap guy-he still hasn’t gotten his name.

  


Alya launches into an extremely fast and detailed description on ‘Ladybug’ and ‘Chat Noir’ touching on how they have literal god-given powers bestowed upon them by small deities called kwamis(?), and how by using these ‘kwamis’ they are temporarily given superpowers. She tells him how akumas are small butterflies that feed on negative emotions, and use those emotions to turn people into revenge-fueled beasts. She very happily answers every question he has, only hesitating when he asks their weaknesses, she had told him that their only weakness was that after they use their one unique superpower, they only have five minutes before they are turned back to a regular human. Maybe he is biased because he is a regular human, but he feels turning human isn’t a bad thing but whatever.

  


Lila clears her throat before speaking up, “You know, Damian, I’m actually pretty good friends with Ladybug, If you have any questions you want answered, I could ask her?”

  


Marinette let out an audible growl at that, seemingly seconds away from spewing venom into Lilas eyes.

  


“Hey, Mari, come to the bathroom with me,” Alya says quickly. Marinette shoots her head up and gives an expression that looks like it's saying ‘ _ huh _ ’, “Come on.” Alya says again but this time physically drags Marinette by the wrist. As soon they turn the corner, Lila opens her mouth to give her unwanted opinion yet again.

  


“Anyway yeah, Ladybug and I are best friends! She teaches me loads of stuff, she was teaching how to fight this weekend and it was so cool,” She said. Damian scoffed, and Lila snapped her eyes to him, her stare going cold for a half of a second before her expression became bright and happy again. “You know, Damian, If you wanted I could give you some pointers, it might up your cool factor.”

  


Damian merely scoffed at that. She didn’t deserve his response. He looked back down at his plate, then looked out the window, the sun was beginning to set so he’d have to head out soon. If he wanted to make it to do a thorough search of the hospital and pharmacy he’d have to start early.

  


Now Damian isn’t just a brute, he’s a man of substance. He enjoys every part of his work, but holy fuck is recon boring. Yeah it’s ‘ _ important _ ’ or whatever but honestly, there is nothing worse than sitting in one place for an indeterminate amount of time just...watching.

  


He’s tugged out of his thoughts about the personal vendetta he has against recon by Alya and Marinette bustling back to the table.

  


“Are you guys ready to go? I think I’m ready to go,” Marinette said as she shuffled to take out her wallet. Adrien put his hand on her arm, causing her to go stock still and turn a bright red.

  


“Hey it’s fine, Marinette, my treat.” Said Adrien with a smile brighter than Metropolis. It made Damian wanna gag.

  


“What! No, A-Adrien I can’t let you do that…” Marinette stammered. Damian rolled his eyes as each person started to give their opinions, Adrien insisting that he pay the whole meal, and literally every other person wanting to split the bill. He ended up zoning out, and he’s not entirely sure who ended up paying , but since he hadn’t needed to pay for his meal he assumed it was Adrien.

  


While leaving the restaurant, he took note of the sun being halfway below the horizon. It would likely be dark by the time he got back to his apartment, he was about to get on his bike and leave when he remembered something.

  


“Oh, Marinette, would you like a ride back to your house?” Damian asked. Marinette's eyes quickly flitted to Alya before landing on him.

  


“Oh, no, I’m good, I’ll walk back with them.” She said. If he learned anything from Stephanie, it was that girls didn’t go to the bathroom just to go to the bathroom, so for a second he ponders if it has anything to do with whatever her and Alya had talked about while “going to the bathroom”. But then he remembered, he doesn’t give a shit.

  


He nodded at Marinette, and gave a quick farewell to the rest of the bunch before driving off.

  


* * *

  


Marinette had been 0.0127 seconds away from completely giving in to her feral-right-brain and just attacking Lila across the hypotenuse of the table. Because how dare she? How  _ dare _ Lila claim to be friends with someone that brings hope to all of Paris when she is so vile and odious? It doesn’t matter that Ladybug is a symbol of creation, because right now Marinette wants to pulverize Lila’s  _ soul _ . She might’ve done it too, if it wasn’t for Alya.

  


““Hey, Mari, come to the bathroom with me,” She says. At Marinette's questioning silence, Alya grabs her wrist and pulls her, “Come on.”

  


She is dragged around the corner and pushed through the doors of the bathroom. “Alya what going o-”

  


“ _ Girl _ , what is up with you?” Alya stresses out.

  


“What? Me? Psh, nothing is up with me,” says Marinette.

  


Alya put her hands on her hips, “Oh I  _ know _ you did not think that would work on me. You’ve been eyeing Lila like she stole one of your dad's recipes all day! So you wanna try that again?”

  


Marinette sighed,  _ She has such a way with words _ , she thought. “Ok Alya… you  _ have _ to believe me, but Lila is lying to all of you! All she does is lie!”

  


“Oh my god…” Alya groaned.

  


“Alya I  _ swear _ I am telling the truth!”

  


“I’m sure that you  _ think you are _ ,” Alya said with her hands up in a placating gesture, “But have you considered that she might be telling the truth? Maybe you think she is lying because… because maybe, you want an excuse? That Adrien won’t like her instead of you?

  


Marinette stepped back as if she had been burnt, “Alya, how could you say that? You think I don’t know that other girls like Adrien!? I mean… how could they not, hehe. No! Anyway. The point is, I know that other girls like Adrien… and that Adrien may like those other girls. But I would  _ never _ do that to accuse someone of something like that just because I was... I was  _ jealous _ !”

  


“I know, I know, I’m sorry, that was wrong of me.” Alya said.

  


“It’s okay, just… don’t do it again.” Marinette sighed. There was silence between them for a few seconds.

  


“Ok...so, how did you know she was lying?” Alya asked slowly.

  


“Well, It’s just everything she said doesn’t add up. Like… she said that she saved Jagged Stones Kitten! But  _ why  _ on earth would Jagged Stone have a kitten. It wouldn’t be safe for him to have a kitten  _ and _ a crocodile.” Marinette stressed.

  


“But how can we prove that?”

  


“I don’t know… oh! Oh oh oh oh oh my god, I can’t believe I  _ forgot _ -”

  


“What?! What is it?” Alya asked.

  


“Alya! I have Jagged Stone’s number!”

  


“Oh my god girl call him,”

  


“Okay, okay.” Marinette took out her phone and dialed the number. She waited with baited breath as the phones rang.

  


“ _ Hello? _ ”

  


Alya and Marinette gaped at each other, before Alya started aggressively pointed to the phone.

  


“H-hi! Um- its Marinette...Is this Penny?” Marinette asks.

  


“ _ Oh Marinette! Yes It’s Penny, Is there anything I can do for you? _ ”

  


“Uhhh, yeah! We were wondering if Jagged has ever owned a cat? Honestly it makes more sense without context…” Marinette said.

  


“ _ Um, no? I’ve been friends with him since he started singing, and he’s never had a cat. He’s always hated them. _ ”

  


“OhmygodAlyadidyouhearthat, Thank you  _ so _ much penny, you were a big help.” Marinette said in a rush.

  


“ _ Um, okay? If you need anything else just call and ask, _ ” Penny said.

  


“Ok thanks bye!” Marinette quickly hung up the phone. When she looked up Alya was looking at her with a shocked expression.

  


“Oh my god, Mari.” She said.

  


“You  _ believe  _ me now!?” Marinette said, “And Lila said that she had tinnitus from saving the  _ ‘kitten’, _ so if she didn’t save a kitten…”

  


“Then she doesn’t have tinnitus either,” Alya finished, “god this is such a mess,”

  


“You know… she was lying about the Ladybug thing,” Marinette said. She knew how much it meant to Alya when Lila promised to introduce her to Ladybug, so while she felt bad talking about it now when the wound was still fresh, she knew that it was better to make sure Alya knew the situation.

  


“Yeah, I know that now,” Alya sighed. She shot up as if remembering, “Oh  _ my _ \- we-I made you sit at the back because of her. Oh Marinette I’m so sorry. We can get you your seat back first thing tomorrow.”

  


“Oh… well it hurt at the time, but honestly I am fine with it now, I get to sit next to Damian! He’s really compelling.” Marinette says, Alya eyes her suspiciously before shaking her head.

  


“You forgive too easily, girl.” She says, “Come on, we should probably get back.” Marinette begins to walk but is pulled into a hug by Alya, “I mean it, you should be  _ way  _ more mad at me.”

  


Marinette wraps her arms around Alya, “Oh I could never be mad at you Alya, at least not for long,” She giggles , “You’re my best friend, and I love you.”

  


“Aww, Mari, I love you too bestie,”

  


“Well, we should get back to the table now, I bet they’re almost done eating.”

  


“Ugh, yeah ok. “

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Istg I am the ceo of adding a space before the comma.
> 
> So i wanted y'alls opinion, would it be more interesting for Damians case and everything going on with Marinette to be kept separate, or should I combine them, and have them solve it together?


	4. Action, action, and facetime calls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoopsie-daisy! i didn't upload for two week :( my bad b. 
> 
> so pretty much i wrote this chapter, then wanted to change it so i deleted it, but then i didn't want to do the change anymore. So i re-wrote it, but i didn't like it. so i rewrote again.

Damian’s night had been going well. It was suspicious.

There had been no problems, or obstructions, or a freak accident that completely derailed his plan(that may seem specific but it’d happen one too many times to be considered special circumstance).

He’d started at the pharmacy, did a thorough search of the employees, storage, and stock. One man, Peter Howser, had, frankly, too low inventory and records. He could have chalked it up to low work hours, or something of the like, but he had worked there for many years, and worked around 50 hours a week, above average. So what was a man who worked as much, if not more, than his coworkers, doing with low sales? Oh Damian would love to find out for himself. He had gotten Peter’s personal information and that was it, he was done with the pharmacy.

Damian left the pharmacy, glaring at the bright green cross, but overall? It had gone swimmingly well compared to other experiences.

Time for the hospital.

Sneaking through the hospital will definitely prove more difficult. He is not very concerned about the patients, but he was definitely wary of the staff seeing him and getting suspicious.

Because his night of reconnaissance may have been going well so far, but his family had a track record of shitty luck.

He had soon realized that his choice of clothing may not have been the best. Because apparently a teen in black shoes, joggers, and hoodie, complete with a pair of black out sunglasses, was mildly alarming here-if the several disconcerted looks he’d gotten told him anything. In his defense, it was fairly normal attire for a Gothamite. He shoved his hood down and swiped off his sunglasses, shoving them in his hoodie pocket just as a worker approached him.

“Hello, sir…” She said with a guarded expression, “Can I help you with anything? Do you need help finding a room?”

He plastered on a bright smile, coined and patented by Brucie Wayne himself, “No, I’m alright, I’m just pretty sure I left my wallet in the bathroom,”

“Oh alright! Well if you need anything, I will be at the front desk.”’ She says, he takes the moment with her back turned to him to slip away into the hallway to the storage rooms-notably not the ones with the bathroom. Damian silently walks down the hall, eyeing each room, he can hear the distant squeak of wheels slowly approaching, so he has to be fast. He finds and enters the files room just as he sees a cart round the corner.

The room is fairly bland, one wall lined with filing cabinets, and a desk with a single computer. The interior design repels him, but that’s not his focus.

Damian goes through each cabinet, looking for records. He comes across a drawer with a thick folder of receipts, dating back one month. He sets the folder on the desk and goes to work. He looks through it very carefully, but he can’t find anything. There’s a detailed list for everything that goes out. What medication, who it’s for, the amount, what they need it for. It’s all there, and he was starting to get agitated when the realisation practically hit him in the face.

Of course it’s not the hospital, he thought, it’s one person. To be completely honest, he felt a little dumb. He probably should have taken into account that most places aren’t crawling with corrupt corporations. In Gotham, a whole hospital being involved in a drug ring wouldn’t be that out of the ordinary.

He practically leaps to the computer. Now he’s no Timothy, or Barbara, or Richard, or Jason. Okay so he’s not great at hacking, he can do it, but it might take him a bit longer. Though lock-picking? Voice mimicking and disguises? Any form of weaponry? That’s his forte. The computer proves easy to get into, but it still takes him quite the few minutes. He pulls out a blank hard drive from his belt, and plugs it into the computer.

As the security footage downloads, he chances a look outside. He hopes to whatever deity both above and below that he won’t get caught, and starts planting his own bugs. By the time he is done, the footage is finished downloading. He carefully returns everything to its exact place, and checks to make sure the bugs are functioning correctly. He pockets the hard drive, shuts down the computer, and swiftly leaves the room.

He changes his stance to look inconspicuous and strolls down the hall. As he rounds the corner, the same woman from before comes face to face with him.

“Did you... find everything alright? You’ve been in there quite a while…” She says.

“Ah yes,” he pulls out his wallet and flashes it to her, “I did leave it here as I thought,”

The lady starts wringing her hands and looks at him conspiratorially, “You know the bathrooms are in the other hallway, you shouldn’t be in this one,”

“Oh well,” he scrambles for an excuse, “The wallet wasn’t in the bathroom at first, so I had to look around, it ended up being in the lost and found,”

She visibly falters at that and goes still, “We don't… have… a lost and found.” She says slowly.

Which... oh shit. What kind of building doesn’t have a lost and found?

Now there are several things Damian could do in this situation:

One is back pedal, try to pull another excuse from far up his asshole. A true deception, maybe about being foreign, and not really knowing the language. Or maybe say he used the wrong words. Pull the old: ‘oh I said {insert previous excuse}? I actually meant {insert new and hopefully improved excuse}’, but everyone knows that never works.

Two is run. He could make a break for it, and she would never get her answer. But what she does from there? That is way too far out of his control, baby. Best case scenario is she doesn’t do anything, but if he ever showed his face again… she may or may not bring it up. Worst case is she calls the cops, and he has a mark on his head for theft.

Three is play dumb and manipulate. Say some bullshit, accuse her of making him out to be a liar, or convince her that there really is a lost and found, and she just didn’t know.

He was seconds away from trying one of the options, really hoping that since it is currently two am, she really couldn’t give two fucks about her job.

But lucky for Damian, he doesn’t have to.

The entrance to the hospital collapses, as if it was put under too much pressure and just… gave up. 

He’s not sure if he should say ‘thank you’ or ‘fuck you’ to whoever made that happen.

But, Damian chooses to perceive it as true divine intervention, uses this oportunity to skeet right the fuck out of there. Though that moment of freedom is very short lived, as when he leaves something is flying straight at him. He barely rolls out of the way in time, shielding himself behind a trash can.

He turns to look at what was thrown at him to see a… a band-aid? A big, thick, long band-aid is stuck to the window. Almost 4 feet in length and at least 2 inches thick. He allows himself a few well deserved seconds of confusion.

A quick look around shows him that people are being trapped by these weird band-aids, but make no mistake,he still has no fucking clue what is going on-

Oh…, he thinks as a red blur swings past him. Swings past all the people writhing on the ground like newborn larvae, right up to a… robot? The closest thing of a reference Damian can come up with is a power ranger villain. It’s very badly colored, super clunky, and just an overall eyesore.

The red blur-Ladybug- his brain supplies, flings herself at the robot, only to bounce right off. Another figure in black-Chat Noir- acts as if he didn’t see Ladybug fail at damaging it, and leaps at it as well, producing the same result. He watches with a mixed feeling of curiosity and disappointment. He ponders getting involved, but figures that they have it handled, since the robot has stopped firing medical supplies and has turned its attention to them.

Damian goes to the woman closest to him, still wriggling in the band-aid, and tries to tug at it-its stuck, firmly.

He whips out a knife and her eyes widen, “Hold still.” he grunts, she nodded frantically. He gets to work on the frankly gross adhesive. Stupid magic band-aid may be too strong to pull off, but caves under a freshly sharpened dagger. As soon as he unwraps the band-aid she scrambles and runs away-though the run is more like a fast hobble.

He goes next to a group of people. Two girls and an older man(he guesses father). He goes to cut away the youngest girl, she’s crying and not staying still, so it takes a little longer than he’d like. Though not after long she’s free, and he gives her a wet wipe to get rid of the sticky residue. While he expects her to go to the other girl or her father, she stays next to him, wailing and hiccuping. He tries his best to ignore her as he cuts free her sister and father, but her unhygienic sniffling is really getting to him, and it takes so much willpower for him not to snap at her.

He goes get the next people when she grabs his hand, with her spit-and-snot clad hand. He turns around slowly, his hand shaking.

“Yes?” He says sharply. He worms his hand out of hers, and takes out a disinfecting wipe for himself.

“Please!” he almost flinches at her cry, “That’s my daddy!”

Damian furrows his brows as his eyes follow her pointed finger. His eyes land on the robot.

“What she means is,” the man starts, “My husband, he was akumatized, because the hospital bill for my daughter was way too high. They...they charged for things that should be free! She was in the hospital for an allergic reaction and they put pillows on the receipt!”

“Ah yes, I understand. The healthcare system, it truly is, uh… capitalistic.” He says. He doesn’t really know how they want him to help, or why him. But trouble follows his family and him everywhere, so he just goes with it. “I will do my best to help, but I have to get these people out of danger first,”

Now Damian was perfectly fine with helping the hostages in this situation, while normally he’d be itching to get into the action, and bitching at anyone who tells him otherwise, right now he is a normal human-not robin. He is not in suit, and has limited weapons on him. Plus he has no idea what he’s fighting and he’d like to know a little about his opponent first.

He was finishing up with one more person-there weren’t that many people, considering it was the middle of the night- and was ready to head the fuck out, but then he saw them… getting the absolute shit beat out of them. He almost felt bad, it can’t be easy fighting a different villain every week with completely different powers.

He watches as all of their attempts at subduing the robot either fail, or only work for a short amount of time. He sighs and pulls up his hood, guess he’ll have to step in.

He picks the lock on a nearby store, and takes a black bandana and ties it around the lower half of his face in a last ditch attempt to maintain some of his identity. Hopefully the bandana in combination with his sunglasses will work.

He grapples up to a tall building to recon. He’s sat up there for a short amount of time, but he learns that the robot is definitely impenetrable, it uses giant band-aids, gauze, stitches, and needles as projectiles. Now he’s not entirely sure, but he suspects the robot is being controlled by a person on the inside. There is a noticeable lag in actions, as if it is responding to instructions. He’s not sure if the hero and heroine have realized that(though he could be wrong, magic is unpredictable).

They are making progress on restraining it. Ladybug had used a red and black slip and slide(?) to make the robot fall and restrained it with a yoyo(?). Though they look to be at a loss for what to do now, it looks like they were looking for something but he isn’t sure what.

Damian had a detailed plan that narrowed down to: Get into the robot, restrain the person inside, shut down the robot, throw the person out for Ladybug and Chat Noir to deal with.

He takes quick inventory of his supplies, he only has a retractable bo staff-shame really, not his weapon of choice but it's easily transportable unlike his katana- and other paraphernalia(shurikens, smoke pellets, etc.). Damian looks for a few more seconds, then jumps off the building and lands before rolling over his shoulder, immediately transitioning into a sprint.

He runs towards the robot, and when he’s close enough he sees a latch on the top, like the entrance to a submarine. He changes directions, running in a half circle till he approaches from the side. At the right moment, he jumps up, twisting his body upside down, when he is above the handle, he grabs the top, swinging his body down. He really hopes that the combined forces of gravity and his body weight are enough to twist it. Lucky for him, it is. The latch pops open a bit, and he can push it open the rest of the way.

When he slips inside, there's a man sat at a control panel-as Damian expected. He expands his staff and rushes at the man. The man seems too occupied to notice him, so he takes his staff in both hands, and wraps it around his neck, yanking back. When he leaves his chair, the robot falls still, no more petulant squirming. Good. The man lets out a yelp, before taking a swing at Damian, he evades the fist and tries to take off the man's helmet-to no avail. He stands up and brings down his staff on the helmet, nothing again. The man stands up as well with a triumphant look on his face.

“My armour is indestructible, you will never-”

Damian doesn’t give him the chance to finish as he swings the staff at the side of his head, harder this time. While it does knock the man down, he doesn’t break. So Damian, assuming that it doesn’t hurt(if the smug smirk he’s wearing has anything to say about it), brings the staff down for a third, fourth, fifth, sixth time. Each hit getting more ferocious and strong, on the seventh one, a crack goes through the air. A helmet is in crumbles on the ground. 

“W-what?! How did yo-!” Damian knocks him out with a jab to the vagus nerve. He was annoying. So he allows a small smile at how the man harshly drops to the floor.

Stepping over him, he makes his way to the control panel. He furrows his brows as he looks at it, it really doesn’t make sense, though he figures that it doesn’t matter as he opens the top to find… there’s no wires? For fucks sake… he hates magic.

Ok new plan. Hit stuff, destroy shit. He takes his trusty staff again- it’s great for hitting things- and starts smashing the top of it. After all, if there’s no controls, no controlling it. Seems like a fool-proof plan to him.

The top is true and well pulverized, so he takes a look out the front, out there he can see Ladybug still looking for something. He ponders for a few seconds if he should help her-he hears a quiet creak behind him. He whirls around, and a metal object is on a fast path to his face, he catches it on instinct.

When he looks up-none other than Chat Noir is at the entrance. He barely has any time to leap out of the way when Chat Noir dives at him. Before he even gets to have a say in it, they are engaged in a fight. Well, fight would be a strong word. It’s more like Damian is simultaneously trying to avoid getting his face clawed in and trying to figure what the absolute fuck is going on. And Chat Noir is trying damn hard to get his sweet sweet claws in some human flesh.

Damian jumps away, and notices he still has the metal stick in his hand. There's a paw print button on it, Damian experimentally presses it, and it expands...like a lot. It hits Chat Noir square in the chest sending him flying back into the wall.

Oops… he thinks. He really did not think that would happen.

“C-Calm down…” Damian coughs, and puts on Tims voice(don’t blame him, it was the first he thought of), he tosses up Chat Noirs staff and catches it. Huh, nice balance, and weight... wonder if I should keep it?, he thinks, before quickly deciding that keeping it would probably not be the best idea.

Chat Noir pushes off the wall with the snarl and rushes him, but midway trips over the man lying at a weird angle on the floor.

“That’s your man, not me,” Damian huffs. He throws the boy his staff back.

“Oh, sorry about that,” Chat Noir scratches the back of his head, “I’m a bit...annoyed. It’s like three am and I had to get up for an akuma attack.”

Damian looks around awkwardly, he doesn’t really know what to do now, “Oh yeah man, I get you.”

“Hey, we’ve been looking for the akuma everywhere, but can’t find it.” He sighed, he sounded very tired.

“No...” Damian drawled. Chat Noir simply hung his head in chagrin.

“Do you know what made him upset?”

“Oh yeah,” Chat Noir perked up at that, “He was mad because his daughter's hospital bill was too high.”

“Oh my! Thank you so much, this is a big help, and I’m not kitten around!” With a renewed energy, Chat Noir scrambled out of the robot.

Damian stayed in the shadows, looking from afar in case they needed any more help. It was only a few minutes until Ladybug went off. She left Chat Noir there for a long while. Before coming back and continuing the search. He’d guess that was her ‘kwami’ recharging, Alya had said that they get tired or something.

He waited patiently for them to finish, but in the blink of an eye, there was a bright red flash, and instead of a robot, there was a normal looking man. Oh, okay, guess that is done in over with.

Damian was just about to take his very well deserved leave, when Chat Noir had to open his stupid big mouth.

“Hey, Bugaboo, you really should start telling me when you call in extra help, I almost attacked your friend in there.”

There was silence, “I... I didn’t call in extra help Chat?”

“The guy in all black?” Chat Noir looked around for a few seconds before his eyes honed in on him, and Damian is really thinking he wants to get out the hell of there.

“I don’t know him... I-i’ve never seen him.” She says with uncertainty, before steeling her face. “Chat, chase after him, we have to find out what he’s up to. Pursuit him on ground, I’ll take aerial...”

Now, Damian would have loved to stay and hear the rest of her sentence, but he made the executive decision to prioritize in saving his own ass.

Damian walked along the shadows, trying to stay out of the line of sight from then entirely, but as soon as he was in Chat Noir’s view, he was spotted. He’d bet that dumb cat had nightvision, the dick.

Chat Noir had not hesitated, at all, to jump at him. Damian had managed to evade him before breaking out into a full sprint.

Now what happened next-he wants to go on record in saying that there was no way he could have prepared for this- was utterly embarrassing. Apparently, every person who had told him about these heroes, had failed to mention just how fast they were.

His heart almost stopped right then and there when he heard the speed at which Chat Noir had absolutely bounded towards him. He was so fucking fast he barely had time to register the rate he was moving at.

He had gotten maybe five steps before being tackled to the ground. He landed harshly on his back, with Chat Noir prowling over him like a particularly excited Titus. Damian would never punch Titus, but he had no problems smashing Chat Noirs smirk right off his face, sending him flying off Damian. He added a kick or four to his celiac plexus-for purely necessary reasons only, and not at all because he was a little vexed at being caught so quickly.

With Chat Noir wheezing pathetically on the ground, he took his chance to run as far as he could. He had gotten a considerably far distance before Chat Noir had gotten up again. Now running with his superhuman speed, Damian had to think of a clever plan of action-he suspected Chat Noir didn’t do that often.

Since he clearly had the disadvantage in speed, he’d have to get out of there sight.

He darted around a corner, then turned around the very next one. He continued taking erratic turns, with no purpose other than don’t-let-them-see-you. Damian had almost succeeded too. But as he said, he has never had good luck.

He had taken a wrong turn. Right into a dead end. Ladybug had joined Chat Noir when her aerial search proved insufficient and he could hear them outside of the alleyway, if he left they would for sure spot him.

He groans, and scales the wall with a practiced speed. Though climbing an almost flat wall with no gear is a bit hard. So very unfortunately for him, they saw him.

When he runs, jumping over the gaps in buildings, he starts to feel as if he is fighting a losing battle. He is about to jump again when he sees something. A dumpster. Most people may see worthless trash, but he sees unfulfilled potential; very much like Timothy.

He comes up with a new plan(he’s been doing that a lot). He runs straight back towards, meeting them on a roof.

He eyes them for a few seconds, before opening his mouth to speak, “I feel as if i haven’t dressed for the occasion.”

“Who are you?” Ladybug demands. He falters when she speaks, because something feels off. She almost feels... familiar? He doesn’t know. And oh does he not like not knowing.

“Who I am doesn’t matter.” He settles on, “What matters is that you know not to come after me.”

“Doesn’t seem like you could stop us?” Chat Noir yawns out. It makes Damian want to rip out his fangs with pliers, “After all, I did catch you very quickly.”

“That was only because I didn’t have inventory of your abilities.” Damian snaps, “I assure you it won’t happen again.”

“Wanna bet?” Chat Noir snarks while stepping forward, Though Ladybug stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Not now, Chat.” She grounds out. Oof, she must be tired. He thinks. Jon also gets cranky when he’s tired.

Chat Noir immediately steps back, “Sorry princess.”

“That was a one-eighty,” he scoffed.

“What can I say, she’s very purr-suasive.” And yeah, okay, Damian was asking for that.

“Will you be a problem?” Ladybug says. Her face was practically carved from stone.

He shrugs noncommittally. “No, unless you get in my way,” unbeknownst to them, his smile sharpens, “Then I’ll have to go through you.”

Chat Noir holds his hands up in a placating gesture, “We don’t want to hurt you man.”

Well that’s good. Because Damian held no such qualms.

In a blink of an eye, he throws two shurikens. Each aimed at one of their shins. He’s not entirely sure if they will pierce the suits, but to his luck, they do. They both hiss in pain, giving him a split moment to act.

He drops a smoke pellet, and the rooftop clouds with thick, opaque, smoke. He uses the diversion to run. He hops over the first gap, when a yoyo(he’s sure it is in fact a yoyo this time) blindly emerges from the smoke. He is about to jump down, and the yoyo(seriously why a yoyo) hits his arm. Though, the wire is almost as sharp as one of his knives, and slices right through his hoodie, and deep into the side of his arm.

Ignoring the pain, he leaps down the alleyway, sliding down the wall. Despite the kind of harsh landing, he manages to slide under the dumpster.

He hears two people drop into the alley.

“Darn! He’s gone!” Says Chat Noir. Ladybug just grunts in return before sighing.

“Let’s head home, kitty, it’s likely we won’t be finding him tonight.” She says, and that feeling is back, that hind-brain of his going ‘!!!!You know her!!!!’ but he doesn’t get to dwell on it for long, as Chat Noir starts waxing poetry on Ladybugs beauty and fearlessness.

He only allows himself to breathe after the two pairs of footsteps have disappeared, and his heart rate slows down.

‘God? Hey it’s me Damian, thank you so fuckin much for getting me outta that pile of shit.’

He waits a few minutes before crawling out from under the dumpster. The smell doesn’t bother him very much , it reminds him of home actually. Though he’s figured out personally that dirty dumpster fluids aren’t good for open wounds.

He takes off his hoodie, being left in his t-shirt, and takes gauze from his utility belt, hoping it is enough to staunch the blood.

The walk home is... he is stressed. He logically knows that he probably looked like the most suspicious person, with all the looking around and the bleeding arm and the half tired half jumpy stumbling that he is pretty sure he was doing.

When he rushes into his apartment, he checks the locks about seven more times than necessary. He sighs, all he wants-all anyone in his damned family wants, is just one recon mission to not go horrifically wrong. He could probably count the recons that actually stayed a recon on one hand.

He brings out a first-aid kit, and settles into the table. While cleaning the wound, he allows his mind to wander. His mind keeps drawing back to Ladybug. He couldn’t help but get a weird sense of deja-vu when she had spoken. Her diction and vernacular were familiar, but her attitude and personality just didn’t match with the feeling of familiarity. He played with the idea that he had met her already-out of suit that is-and while the prospect is not that far out there, he simply did not have the brain-power to think. He is tired, he hasn’t slept for over 30 hours, he wanted to sleep. It really was times like these that made him wonder how the hell Timothy had gone on no sleep for a week, it really cannot be safe.

He finished off the suture, and stretched his arm a bit to make sure it was secure. Once satisfied, he started to idly wonder what Jon was up to.

Once settled into bed, he took out his phone, plugged it in, and facetimed Jon.

It rang for a few seconds, before answering, showing Jons face very close to the phone.

“Omg! Hi! I mean bonjour? Salut? You’re in Paris! How is Paris? I know I asked like last night but how was it today? Did you have any good vegan bread?”

“Jon. Why are you answering your phone at school?” He scolded him. Jon made an incredulous face, and his spirits were instantly lifted. That happened a lot around Jon,

“You called me!” He whines, “Besides, why are you calling me when you should be sleeping? Huh?”

“It’s 5 am, I could be just waking up.” He shrugged.

“Ha! Yeah sure... I believe tha-”

“Jon! Who that?” A girl with blonde hair shoved herself into the frame, and squinted at the phone.

“Kathy! This is Dami!” Jon turned around the phone, to show multiple people at a table outside, “Dami, this are my friends, Kathy, Marissa, Mark, and Chris,”

“Hello,” he said politely, “Ni-”

“Oh my lord, the Dami? The one that you write whole ass sonnets about during lunch?”

Damian allowed himself to smile. Granted, he’s not much better. In Jason’s eyes, Damian believes Jon could never do anything wrong ever. Is it not justified though? His subconscious thinks, completely proving Jason correct.

“Chris,” Jon blushed a light red but didn’t stop smiling

“Hey why’s it so dark? We finally get to meet the notorious ‘Dami’ and we can’t even see him...”

“Stop trying to ogle my boyfriend, Marissa,” Jon says harshly-or as harshly as he can, which is to say not at all. He turns back to Damian, “So? What’d you do today? Anything exciting?”

He thought for a second, debating how much to say with Jons friends present, “You know those Parisian heroes?” he continues at Jons nod, “Yeah well. I had an encounter with them today, and it surely was something,”

“Ooh, spill the tea luv,”

“One of them was chasing me-” he started.

“Woah, why were they chasing you?” A girl said.

“Marissa... it’s rude to interrupt, ya know?” Jon tutted, then turned to him, “Woah, why were they chasing you?”

“I took his bo staff.” He lies smoothly.

“What, Why?” Jon squeaks, and he has to repress his laugh at his boyfriends over exaggerated reaction. Jon has always been bad at lying.

“He threw it at me, so I think it was justified,” Jon's eyes squint at him, the face he makes when he’s not sure if Damian is telling the truth or not.

“...why” Jon drawls.

“He thought that I was the bad guy, instead of the guy knocked out next to me.”

“Well did you knock him out?” Another person says. Jon glares at someone off the screen.

“Well can I have a conversation with my beau without one of y’alls butting in?” he says. “But Mark brings up a valid point, did ya knock him out?”

Damian snorts at that, “Well yeah.”

“Then that might have had an influence on his judgment, yeah?”

“Hey, the super villain was the one in the weird outfit, that guy just wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings.”

“Hey, come to think of it, how the hell did you knock out a supervillain?”

“Oh my god, Kathy,” Jon stresses.

Damian glazes over his boyfriend's obvious annoyance. “I whacked him real hard witha big stick,” that got a good laugh out of Jon. It’s not far from the truth. Pretty much the whole truth, just termed differently to sound less vigilante-like.

“Only you gotham folk...” Jon says with a smile.

“Gotham?” “Gotham!” “Woah Gotham?”

Three of his friends had spoken at once. Seemingly surprised at the notion that Jon was with a Gothamite.

“You’re fucking the enemy, Jon” Says Marissa.

“Oh my-...I-” Jon is stricken at Marissa’s quick quip.

“Gotham, and its heroes are leagues better than The Big Plum,”

“First of all, we are not starting this again. And Second of all, It’s the Big Apricot.” Jon corrects.

“Whatever you say, just know that you are wrong if you believe your Pluot is superior to Gotham.”

‘What the hell is a pluot?” Jon asks, but unfortunately, doesn’t get an answer.

Because mark piped up “You may be thinking about how Gotham is better, but i’m still tryna figure out how you made it to this age in that cesspool of murder.”

“Only the weak die. Weed out the fragile and you are left with the formidable.” Damian said.

“Should I tell Jason you said that?” Jon retorts.

There is a long pause. Damian’s only response is a quirk of his head to the side and pursed lips.

“Oh that shut you up didn’t it? Jon revels in his victory.

“You did this for what?” Damian grumbles.

“Who would humble you if it weren’t for me?”

“I got a long as shit list of siblings who would happily take over the job.” Damian replies flatly.

“Aww, well I-” a sharp whistle comes through the speaker, “Damn, I gotta go , Dami. I’ll call you after you’re done school?”

“Bold of you to assume I am actually going to school today.”

“Har-har, supes funny. Okay so I’ll facetime you after I finish school, alright? Catch up on sleep, I can tell you’re tired.”

“I’ll listen to you telling me to sleep when you listen to me telling you to study.”

“Wow, bringing that up, are we? Well, antyways, I gotta skedaddle and you gotta stop being so amazing, before I go over there myself.”

“Is that a promise?” Damian huffed. It was no secret that he missed Jon, and no, he will not stop talking about it to Richard, or Bruce, or Cassandra, or Jason, or Timothy, or Stephanie, or Barbara, or Duke, or any other person in that house(one of these days he will lose count). Because if he has deducible permission to bitch to his wits end, then he will do so thank you very much.

“Yes, It is.” Jon states happily, “Now goodbye, because if I will never hang up if I don’t do it now.”

“Alright, Goodby Jon,”

“Hate you, Dami,”

“Happy to hear it, love”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't tell you the will power it took for me to not have damian find a raccoon and keep it.
> 
> edit- my excuse i they have really sharp weapons
> 
> also my bad if the transition to him talking with Jon was rushed, but pretty much i thought i was done, then my hind brain went “give me Damijon” and it just happened


	5. Marinette, Thinking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lil tiny miniscule filler chapter, A marinette interlude, if you will.  
> (don't get used to me uploading this frequently, issa one time thing)

Marinette Dupain-Cheng enjoys her life. She has a great relationship with her parents, as well as her uncle and aunt, she is gifted with countless opportunities, and she always dresses completely how she likes. She became Ladybug a little over two years and one month ago. So yeah, that’s a thing. Not to say she doesn’t have her struggles, because  _ believe _ her, it can get pretty hard balancing being a superhero and getting an education as well as keeping up with hobbies. But overall, she’d say she finally got some luck on her side. She has great friends, celebrity connections( _ jagged stone  _ can you believe it?), and she has never been more confident in her whole life.

A large portion of that confidence is because of Ladybug, and her friends of course, but mostly Ladybug. Before the whole  _ superhero _ thing, she had been a little shaking ball of anxiety and self-doubt. Her anxiety still plagues her civilian life, poking its head out at the worst of times. But what is a better remedy for constantly thinking you are not good enough, than a whole city looking up at you in admiration, endlessly praising your heroic deed? Sometimes she thinks a little self-doubt is good for her, because being confident on your own in addition to the entire population of Paris telling you how amazing you are is just a perfect combo for a superiority complex. 

Though it can get to be a bit much sometimes. Where she lets the thought wiggle its way into her head, that one question:  _ What if she messes up? _ Because everyone extols how much they love her. But she knows that love can be conditional. And so what? She may spiral, shaking in her room, fingers trembling as she writes down her thoughts.  _ What if one day I’m not good enough? What will happen if I fail? Will they turn their back on me? What if- _

She’s fine though.

Whenever that happens she goes to her friends. Alya has no problem hyping her up just as she has no problem calling her out for her crazy, convoluted, and frankly just stupid plans. Alya has always been a great friend, she is intrepid and supportive, and she ground her when things get to be too much. She’s been there for Marinette no matter how it may inconvenience her. She stands up for Marinette when she doesn’t have the will to do it herself, and she never lets Marinette forget just how phenomenal she is. They went through a little rough patch with the whole Lila thing, but they are fine now, they built themselves back up stronger than ever. She trusts all her friends, Nino, Juleka, Rose, Nathaniel, Alix, Mylène, Adrien…. But she would trust Alya with her life.

Chat, on the other hand, was a bit different.

Marinette doesn’t mean that in a bad way. She trusts him with her life too, she has before, and she would again. She thinks that at this point, she could consider Chat one of her friends, one of her  _ best _ friends. Maybe… almost as much as Alya? She doesn’t know. But, he’s the only other person that understands. He knows how hard it is, how difficult it is to spend all night fighting monsters, then having to drag yourself out of bed the next morning -a tiredness bone deep- and go to school like nothing is wrong. Or the stress of performing underpressure, with the knowledge that everyone is counting on you.

But it doesn’t affect him like it does her, or maybe he’s just better at hiding it. Marinette is not afraid to admit it; she gets…  _ broody, _ at times. She’ll go and get herself into one of her moods, where she sulks around, and has a prominent scowl on her face.

Well… Chat gets like that too sometimes, he’ll get snappy, and easily agitated, and overall capricious. But not as much as her. It seems different too. Because with him, he usually calms down after blowing off some steam, while Marinette only calms down  _ after  _ saving the city.

She can see where they contrast. Because even though Ladybug helps her(it helps her  _ so _ much), being Ladybug is a duty, a job. But it’s… it’s just not the same for Chat, she can tell. To him, Chat Noir is freedom.

Ladybug is her obligation, Chat Noir is his reprieve. That is how they are different.

They are so different.

For all that she complains about and to him-or  _ about _ him  _ to _ him- sometimes she wishes she could be more like him. He’s just, so  _ carefree _ . Never hesitating to crack a joke or make a god-awful pun, solicited or not. Chat finds the fun in everything-something she has never been able to do, in or out of the suit. How someone with the power of destruction, something truly wicked and menacing, has the ability to see the good in people, to find the positives in every situation, to cheer the most desolate of people up… she doesn’t know.

  
  


Sometimes… sometimes she thinks she could  _ like _ him. God knows it’d be easy. He is definitely attractive. Tall, with lean muscles, wind swept hair, and a classic smile on his face that’s somewhere in the middle of a smirk and grin. Based on looks alone, she can see why girls fawn over him.

But it’s not just his looks, obviously. He’s funny, that’s a good quality right? Granted, his timing could use some work, because maybe while Ladybug is trying to figure out how to use her lucky charm isn’t the best time to point out that the akumas head is shaped like a cartoon leaf of lettuce.

Sometimes she thinks she could even fall in love with him.

Because he’s respectful too. He respected her boundaries when she rejected him, he didn’t get vile or mean, or call her names, like so many men on the street had done. He had smiled, he gave her the rose and told her it was okay, that her friendship was enough.

He’s brave. They both were, that comes with the job description, but it still counts. Chat Noir was always willing to put himself in danger, to risk his neck for her. He always agrees to her absolutely insane plans that no living person should ever agree to participating in. He always does it, without a question, because he trusts her.

He was smart too. For as much as he acted like a bumbling idiot, he was extremely intelligent and skilled. His proficiency at fencing(something that doesn’t come with the suit powers), or the way he excels at science and maths. He seems oblivious at times, but he has shown exceptional cleverness as well.

And he  _ cares _ . He cares about her, so much. He cares about everyone. He would do anything for others. Maybe that’s why he was chosen, for the Chat miraculous that is. Because he would destroy himself before hurting others. And she knows that if it came down to him or her, hurting? He would choose himself every time.

She wishes he wouldn’t, she doesn't want him hurting because of her. She doesn't want to hurt him.

But she already has? Hasn’t she? When she rejected him.

It was well within her right to reject him, it was not requisite for her to say yes. But she had seen his hurt, he smiled, but she could tell he was disappointed when she said she already liked somebody else.

She sighed, setting down her pen. Physics homework finally complete.

Marinette ran a hand through her hair. This is what she meant, she was doubting her past decision, because it had hurt Chat Noir. She knew she was being stupid, and Chat Noir would tell her so.

Maybe they could be together. If she let herself, she could fall in love. He… he  _ says _ he loves her. He tells Ladybug that. That he loves her for her bravery, her intellect, her strength. He promises that he’d still love her, no matter who is behind the mask.

But she doesn’t quite believe him, cause she is not like Ladybug. Marinette doesn’t see herself as brave, she tried to give up the miraculous when she was given it. She’s not the smartest, she made a hat with a pigeon feather even though Adrien is allergic to them. And she’s not strong, it took her how many years to stand up to Chloé? It wasn’t even her either, it was Alya.

Yes, that’s it. Chat Noir loves Ladybug, not her.

But there are times, where she wonders what it’d be like, and she thinks it could work. Where, if things were less complicated, she would be more comfortable with him being more than a friend. But then she thinks of Adrien.

Selfless, honest, kind, humble, talented, smart, innocent Adrien. A lot of the time, just the thought of him is enough to brighten her mood. He’s like her, he hates liars, loves sweets, likes music, loves hamsters. They have so much in common. Though he wouldn’t know that because of her absolute inability to hold a conversation with him. She could go on for hours, but tikki has heard it a million times, so she will spare her little friend.

So yes, she loves Adrien. And she knows deep in her heart, that she could love Chat too. She never wants either of them to get hurt.

If she had to choose, she knows that she should choose Chat, that they have the best chance of… of  _ having  _ something. Because Adrien doesn’t like her, or at least not like that. He is kind to her, and he gives her gifts, and hangs out with her; but he does that to all his friends, because he cares for them so deeply, and holds them so close to his soul and treasures them with all his being. He is not in any way romantically interested in Marinette, so she should choose Chat.

But she knows that deep in her heart, she would undoubtedly choose Adrien.

The world is unfair, isn’t it? Ladybug and Chat Noir, the unstoppable duo. Both loving people who may never love them back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all analyze the absolute fuck outta my writing(but genuinely, constructive criticism is appreciated), so heres somethin straight-forward
> 
> also i had to delete over half of the alya chapter cause it was getting quite sapphic.


	6. Secrets, Psychopaths, and Sleepovers, Oh My!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette thinks about the mysterious guy her and chat ran into during the last akuma attack, Damian follows up on a lead, and Alya schemes.
> 
> T.W. for this chapter: A lot of cussing, Violence(i.e. Damian being a sociopath)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't proofread, it adds excitement.

Marinette twirled the throwing star in her hand under the desk. Subconsciously, she knew she should be paying attention to the lesson, and that if she didn’t, she’d have to teach it to herself later.

Though, she couldn’t stop thinking about her encounter with the strange man in black. He was… _insanely_ skilled. He had evaded Ladybug and Chat Noir - two literal superheroes - outsmarted them with quick wit and experienced actions.

But he wasn’t a superhero, she could tell that much. He was dressed like a civilian, he wasn’t granted a suit by the miraculous, and he had no in-human advantages(though just in case she ran to Master Fu, he confirmed).

The fact that he was so skilled, despite being only human, had scared her -not that she would ever admit it. It was dangerous, that there was someone out there like _that_ , just… roaming, unsupervised.

Even worse, he had never specified what he actually wanted. Never said ‘ _I’m on your side_ ’, or ‘ _I want you dead_ ’. Just told them to stay out of his way, and he won’t be a problem. But she doesn’t know if she can; stay out of his way that is. If he _is_ up to something nefarious, she cannot morally do nothing.

People without principals are the worst, she decides. There is not much worse than a person who is only looking out for themselves, because they always have the least weaknesses. Their own wellbeing is the only thing that can be used for leverage.

She inhales a sharp breath through her nose as her finger nicks the sharp side of the throwing star. She looks at the blood forming on her finger, a familiar sight with her habit of pricking her fingers on needles. She idly wonders how sharp the star has to be if it cut her when she barely touched it as she wraps a small piece of gauze around her finger.

Damian isn’t here today. She brings it up to Alya on the way out of class.

“Yeah, that _is_ kinda weird… what do you think he’s doing?”

“Hm. I’m not sure. I don’t know him very well.” Marinette responded.

“Well you’ve spent the most time with him,” Alya shrugged.

“Yeah, a _day_ ,”

“Whatever girl, what’s he like anyway? He didn’t talk much at dinner,” She asked.

“Eh, he’s like, sarcastic you know? He kinda seems like he’s trying to be nice, but it is coming off more passive aggressive.” Marinette says.

“Well, he’s from america right?”

“Yeah, he told me he’s here for art,”

“Makes sense, I’ve not met many, but what I get from social media, all Americans just pretend to be nice.” Alya says.

“Alya!” Marinette laughed, “I’m sure Americans are good people.”

“Never said they weren’t!” Alya raised her hands in defense, “But you can be a good person but still be ‘passive aggressive’.”

“Hm, I guess you are right. He didn’t seem like the type of person to be particularly odious, At least not to me.”

“Yeah girl, I get the same vibe.” Alya wrangles with her bag for a second, looking for her phone. And Marinette has a funny vision of Matador Alya attempting to subdue a big satchel. “So you wanna do homework at my house?”

“Hm? Oh sure, you’re gonna have to teach me the lessons though, because I was _not_ paying attention.” Marinette chirps.

Alya just huffs a laugh at that, “Of course, I wouldn’t expect any less.”

* * *

Damian's knuckles spilled blood as he drove his fist into this _asshole's_ face. To preface- beating the shit out of a 40 year old man wasn’t on his agenda. He swears he just wanted to talk, ask a few questions, but he probably should have assumed that things would go awry, considering his general way of life.

_All you had to do was answer some questions, but_ no _, you had to go and be a stubborn douche over it._

When he arrived at the apartment, he decided that the best course of action was to knock on the door, ask to come in, question him further. But that didn't really… _work out_ , to say the least.

_Damian waited patiently after knocking on the door. When the door opened, the man had immediately looked as if Damian personally antagonized him._

_“I don’t want whatever you’re selling,” He bit out, he went to close the door but Damian spoke up._

_“I am not advertising anything. You are Peter Howser if I am correct? I just have some questions about the pharmacy you work at,” Damian said levelly, he proceeded to take out the employee records sheet, “If I could just-”_

_The man snatched the paper out of his hands, and he had to keep himself from evading, “Where did you get this?”. Damian never had the opportunity to answer, as Peter had slammed the door in his face, paper still in hand._

_His eyebrow twitched,_ Okay _, he thought,_ I’ll ignore that _._

_To his credit, Damian_ did _try knocking on the door several more times, though the only responses Peter gave were rather crass variations of ‘go away’._

_But that is alright. Because now, with the wood half off its hinges, and splintered wood strewn about around the floor, they could continue._

_“What the_ fuck _kid!” Peter Howser shouted, and Damian figured it was safe to assume he was a bit mad about the door, “You better get the fuck out of my house before I show you out myself.”_

_“Just answer my questions, and I will happily see myself out.” Damian stated._

_The man let out an angry scoff at that, “Jesus christ, kids have no goddamn respect.”_

_“Sir, if you could just explain the discrepancies in your sales records then-”_

_“You break into_ my _house, and_ accuse _me, of not doing my fucking job?” Peter said nastily._

_Damian's jaw clenched, “Yes.” He snapped. “Unless you can explain why there are records of drugs being exported under_ your _name without customers to accompany them, then I will not be leaving._

_Peter had started fidgeting minutely, before growing red in the face and tightening his hand into a fist. “Why you little-” He had cut himself off in turn for taking a swing at Damian._

“I am going to ask you again,” he says calmly, “what are you doing with the drugs?”

The man spluttered pathetically, hands shaking while attempting-to no avail- shield his face, “T-this is fucking illegal! You’re lucky I don’t call the cops on your ass!”

“You have a lot of courage for someone in the position of no power,” Damian says. The man snarls, before spitting a glob of blood and saliva on the hand that is holding the front of his shirt.

It takes every ounce of restraint he has not to rip the man’s ear drums out, which is to say about two and a half ounces.

Damian swiftly grabs Peter by the collar, and wrenches him down, making him land with a clear thud on his back. Before Peter can blink, knives are pinning his pant legs and arm sleeves down, and another knife buried to the hilt in the wood panels, mere millimeters from his head.

Taking in a deep breath through his nose, Damian stands. _Remember your training_ , he thinks, _to know your enemy, you must become your enemy_ . If he can figure out where Peter’s priorities lay, he can _influence_ him much easier. Playing for nonchalance, he walks around the apartment eyeing the decorum, his eyes land on a picture frame. _Bingo_.

“Aw. Hey Pete, you didn’t say you had a family,” Damian says, picking up the picture and showing it to him. The picture has Three people: Pete with his arms around a woman around his age, and a younger girl. “How old’s your daughter? She looks… thirteen? Twelve?”

“That’s none of your business.” Pete clips out.

“You’re right, it's not…but wow, a twelve year old daughter, that’s _so_ young. You guys have a good relationship? You get along?”

“ _What_? Why are you asking?”

“No reason. Just… wondering, I guess.” Damian trails off. He sets down the frame carefully and decidedly ignores the way Peter relaxes. Bad tell, made his priorities clear. He picks up a candle, smells it, and weighs it in his hand. Fairly heavy for a candle, glass container, sharp edges, it’ll do.

“What are you doing?” Peter asks wearily. He’s stupid, practically giving Damian without being asked.

_Tread carefully, Damian,_ A voice says, _A man who knows not of his opponent, cannot gain a victory without a defeat._ It sounded suspiciously like his mother.

“Just looking around, you know? I just moved here, I’m only seventeen, young and dumb. I have my own apartment now, and I just wanted to see how older folk decorate their accommodations.” He puts on a mildly disgusted face, “I have to say, I’m not the biggest fan of the broken door look,”

Peter guffaws, “B-but, you… _you_ broke the door.” He sounds utterly confused.

“I suppose I did, didn’t I?”

Peter is eyeing him like he’s waiting for Damian to lash out and punch him again. But is steadily surprised as each second goes by, and Damian chooses to make kind of passive aggressive, to straight up rude comments on his household decorations and knickknacks.

Damian doesn’t find anything else of use, “So, where is your family?” Damian settles on, and Peter starts at the mention of them.

“Why would I tell you that.” The pharmacist bleats. He’s more stubborn than Damian would expect, but he’s had his fair share of stubborn suspects.

“Because if you don’t I’ll kill you.” He lies smoothly with a shrug, and Peter is visibly surprised by the bluntness.

“I don’t think you will…” Peter says slowly. _Damn, caught me quick_.

Damian raises his eyebrow, “ _Oh_ , what makes you think that?”

“Well, you’re just a _kid_. Kids aren’t capable of that kind of shit. At least not without some long lasting trauma and PTSD or something…”

Damian stayed quiet and fixed him with a dark look. Let Peter come to his own conclusions.

Peter's face flashed through emotions. Interpreting, thinking, questioning, disbelief, shock, worry, _fear_ , “I- holy shit have you…” Peter flushes to a complementing shade of green.

“Do you want to know where I’m from?” Damian says levelly, “I’m from a city in America -you might’ve heard of it- called Gotham.” He relishes in the way Peter starts to squirm, “Ah, so you’ve heard of it.”

The media likes to depict Gotham as a crime ridden city where all criminals and villains go to play. Other countries seem to think that if you step foot in Gotham you have a statistically higher chance of leaving dead rather than alive. He thinks it’s bullshit, Timothy says it might actually be correct, but he digresses.

“I am no stranger to death, Peter, I cannot recall all the lives I've seen taken, _have_ taken.” Not a lie.

“Jesus you’re a fucking psychopath.”

“Mayhaps I am.” Damian inquires, he slowly walks over to where Peter is lying on the floor, scrutinizing him while cradling the candle in his hands. “So Peter, what happened to the drugs that went missing under your _oh so watchful eye_.”

The pharmacist's eyes harden and flash with defiance. “I’m not telling you shit.” He spits.

_Why is he so obstinate?_ “Very well.” Damian lets the candle slip out of his grasp, and he watches with baited breath as it falls all the way down to his neck. Damian lets a manic giggle slip out at the man's gurgling choke followed by a gasp of pained breath.

“What the _fuck_ is wrong with you.” He rasps out, “that was a bitch move you motherfucker.”

“Wow it’s like you want me to kill you.”

“This is sick! If you’re going to kill me make it quick.”

“Hm… you know what? I don’t think I will,” Damian chirps, “You were right before, I don’t kill anymore, but maiming is still up for grabs in my opinion.”

Although Damian doesn’t think he could get away with that without his father getting upset.

Peter looks scared for a moment, before his face steels in determination. “Whatever you think you’re going to do to me, it’s not going to work.”

“You’re right, it won’t.” The man blinks, surprised at Damian's admission, “Your motivation is... it’s _strong_ , I’m not quite sure what it is yet but I am happy to find out.”

“Yeah, well what the fuck do you plan on doing to get it out of me?” Peter said it less of a question and more of a challenge.

Damian elected to ignore him. He needs to take things slow. He admits he’s never been the most… patient, person. But he is detailed in his work, and skilled in interrogation. So it shouldn’t be too hard.

He picked up the picture frame again, and sat cross-legged next to Peter, “She’s pretty, your daughter. Big, pretty brown eyes.” Peter is growing red next to him, “And your wife is beautiful, what’s the first thing you noticed about her? I hope it was her hair. It deserves the praise.”

“What are you getting at.” The man says, neck red and muscles taught.

“I’m saying you have a very beautiful family, Peter.” his eyes flick up and down Peter, “You’re mediocre.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“So are they beautiful on the inside too, or are they jackasses like you?”

The pharmacist glares hotly at him, “My wife is a good person, so is my daughter. So leave them out of this.”

“Ah, inner beauty is what truly matters.” Damian shrugs, “Everyone looks the same on the inside, in my opinion. Lots of red.”

Peter flinched, “You said you don’t kill anymore.”

“Eh,” Damian swayed his hand in a see-saw motion, “You can live without a gallbladder, you don’t need a spleen. You can live a healthy life with only one lung. Same with one kidney. You don’t need your _whole_ liver either. Any of those would work for me. Your wife doesn’t drink does she?”

Peter grows pale at the insinuation and Damian smiles. “Let's have a talk, shall we.”

  
  
  


Marinette held her head in her hands and groaned, much to Alya's amusement apparently. _Gosh my head hurts_.

“Gosh my head hurts,” Marinette complained her emotions, “and you _laughing_ is not helping!”

“Sorry Marinette, but this was a tough lesson! learning it in 20 minutes from me will admittedly be more intense than learning it in 94 minutes from a professional. You should have paid attention,” Alya laughed out.

“That was not preferable to my happiness.” Marinette huffs.

“Neither is your best friend drilling a lesson she barely knows into your head.” 

“Well I think that we should stop doing _this_.” She gestures wildly to the pile of homework around them.

“Ok fine.” Alya says, putting her papers in a folder. “I wanted to talk to you about something anyway.”

“Oh?” Marinette inquires.

“How do you feel... about a sleepover? Over winter break?” Alya questions excitedly.

Marinette raises her eyebrows at her, “Why?”

“Can’t I want to hang out with my best friend?” Alya says, hand on her chest in exaggerated offense.

“No! I know you Alya,” Marinette points an accusing finger at her friend, “If you wanted to hang out, you’d just suggest one today. But instead you’re being all weird about it, and scheduling ahead! Thus, you are up to something, Césaire.”

Alya huffs, “Can’t get anything pass you huh? Oh well, yeah you caught me. I was thinking that over winter break we can have a class sleepover.”

“What! Alya, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” Marinette says.

“Hold on Mari, think about it! It’d be the perfect time for you and Adrien to spend time together, and he can’t be the only boy there, he’d probably suspect something. So if we have a class sleepover, he can come!”

“But… _Lila_ ,” Marinette whines.

“Ok yeah, that’s a downfall, but I-and the others-can distract Lila,” Alya lowers a voice to an alluring drawl, “ _You_ slip him a little leg with those sexy lace pajamas, and boom! He is head over heels for you! It’s _foolproof_.”

“Alya!” Marinette cries, face red. “I’m not going to _slip him some leg_ , I don’t want to make him uncomfortable…”

“Uncomfortable? He’s a sophomore boy and you’re hot as hell, I don’t think that’s possible.” Alya flips her hair over her shoulder and leans forward, “And if teenage male hormones don’t work out, we have his absolute obliviousness as a fallback. Trust me, he’ll either notice and _not mind at all_ , or he won’t even perceive it.”

Marinette clutches her hair in her hands, “You are _crazy_.” She says weakly.

“So is that a yes?” Alya asks hopefully. Marinette drops her hands and groans, _why am I friends with a criminal mastermind?_ She thinks.

“You drive a hard bargain.” She says, and Alya immediately whoops and whips out her phone.

“I am texting everyone right now! If you don’t want to do this you better say so soon cause once this plan is set in action, there are no take-backsies!”

“Wait, Alya…” Marinette mutters, and Alya pauses and raises her eyebrows at her, “Ok fine.”

“Yes, this is a great idea! With the whole class there, you don’t have to worry about it just being you and Adrien, it will be so much less _awkward_. There are no flaws to my plan.”

“I think you are forgetting that Lila has the ability to ruin every situation ever.” Marinette stated.

“I think we can distract her! If we can get her to start talking about herself, then she should be occupied for a while.”

“Actually yeah you’re right... I mean other than trying to win Adrien's affections, and like eating babies or something, that’s all she really does.” Marinette shrugs.

“Oh my god we are so smart, this has to be one of our best plans.” Alya says decidedly, right after her phone pings. “Okay, Rose said her, Juleka, and Nathanial are in, and that Nathaniel would like to know if he can bring Marc? Is that the kid from Mme. Alarie's class? With the, uh, with the gloves?”

“Oh yeah! Tell Nathaniel that Marc can come.” Marinette says.

“Oh wait, do you think we should invite Damian?” Alya asks.

Marinette thinks for a moment, “I think we should, but I don’t know if he’ll want to go… still I wouldn’t want him to feel left out.”

“Do you have his number?” Alya asks, Marinette thinks for a moment.

“No I don't, that’s okay though, we can ask him in class tomorrow.”

“If he’s there,” Alya mutters.

“What do you mean?” Marinette questions.

“It seems a little early for him to skip classes, don’t you think?” Alya says, raising an eyebrow. Marinette scrunches her face up. Yeah that is a bit weird, his second day at school here and he was already skipping? That doesn’t seem right, or smart.

“Maybe he had to do something? He said yesterday that he hadn’t gotten all his stuff yet, so maybe it came and he had to take it to his house?”

Alya shrugs, “Meh, whatever it is, he will regret missing today's lesson.”

“Oof, yeah he is going to suffer,” Marinette laughs.

“Speaking of, I think we should knock out the rest of this,” Alya gestures to her folder, containing the rest of their homework.

Marinette heaves a long sigh, “Ok… alright! Let’s get this done.”

* * *

Across the city of Paris, Damian was leaving an apartment, closing a broken door behind him.

It had been a successful trip, Damian decided. A little longer than he’d have liked. But he got more out of it than he was expecting. It hadn’t taken a lot actually, just an in depth review of human anatomy, some thinly-veiled threats, and a few very detailed(and gruesome) drawings of his wife and daughter, then he was spilling secrets almost as fast as he was spilling tears.

Turns out, not only is he supplying the raw drugs, but he is making them. Him along with a few dozen others granted, but still.

The man had started blubbering, whining about how if his buyer finds out he told, he would kill his family, then him. It was pathetic. Damian told him as such while kicking him in the sides. He also took it upon himself to inform the pharmacist just how many people were dying from the drug(Nova, he called it, stupid name). And that he was taking others families away from them, so he has no right to beg for the sparing of his. But then Peter started sobbing, and Damian kind of felt bad, so he promised that he would keep Peter's family safe.

Peter had told him that he took the drugs to a club, Club Orchid, and that from there he doesn’t know for sure what happens to them, but he thinks they disperse them from there.

Not long after that, Damian left, thanking Peter for his compliance after shredding the drawings, and dropping a wad of cash in his hand to pay for the door.

_“Tell your wife there was a break in, and that you were home at the time so nothing was stolen. She should believe you if she takes in account your… temper.”_

Damian would believe that over a 17 year old broke in and interrogated him, if he was a 43 year old woman who didn’t know her husband was making and supplying drugs to dealers.

Yes, it was a very successful trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So,, it's been awhile huh. So this chapter came a bit later than i thought it would, i will admit, that is my bad, i simply forgot this existed.
> 
> (((((Please please comment!!! they fuel me more than food)))))
> 
> So i have been working on *two* other fics! Both Super Sons ofc (only one is Jondami though):  
> \- (Not Jondami) One of them is kind of a 'The Hollow' au, The Hollow is a kids show on netflix(so it's really not that groundbreaking, but it's okay), and the characters really reminded me of Damian, Colin, and Maya, but in the end I did go with Damian, Jon, and Kathy. You can watch it if you want, or not, idrc.  
> \- (Jondami one) The other is a Super Sons/Marvel crossover because I've seen a lot of them with Jason or Tim, and sometimes Dick but not usually. I've only seen one with Damian and Jon, so i wanted to try it myself.  
> SO LOOK FOR THOSE IN THE FOLLOWING DAYS


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